


Must I Paint You a Picture

by Luka



Series: Firestorm [4]
Category: Primeval
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 16:39:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19066525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luka/pseuds/Luka
Summary: Stephen and Ryan find it's not so easy to put the past behind them.





	Must I Paint You a Picture

**Author's Note:**

> The fourth story in the Firestorm series, which follows straight on from the Iceman stories. Thanks to Fredbassett for the loan of Jon Lyle, her OC. Claire and Lizzie are my creations.

"Looks like something out of bloody Play School!" Ryan handed Stephen a mug of tea.

"That ages you …" Stephen perched on the top of the stepladder. “Ta. I was ready for a cuppa.”

“Big Ted was always my hero."

"And there was me thinking Hamble was your role model …"

"More like Bagpuss …"

Stephen did an uncannily accurate impersonation of the mice from the children's show, then reached out for one of the chocolate biscuits from the packet that Ryan had propped on top of the ladder.

Ryan leaned over and licked his lips, then kissed him. "Chocolate," he explained.

"You missed some."

Ryan returned for a second go, wishing fervently that it would lead to something, but knowing bloody well it wouldn't. He felt like telling the sodding quack that it wasn't natural if you couldn't get a hard-on from looking at your sex-on-legs partner dressed in a teeshirt and pair of jeans which were both more holes than fabric. Mind you, it might finally get a reaction out of the doctor, a dour Scotsman with no bedside manner.

Stephen handed Ryan the empty mug back. "What time is it?"

"11.30pm. Time to go home, unless you want to turn into a pumpkin."

"This time on a Saturday night, I'm banking on my handsome prince turning up in his carriage to whisk me away …"

"I've got a pushbike …"

"Cheapskate!"

"You can ride me anytime you want …"

Stephen rolled his eyes and they both burst out laughing. "Tomorrow morning, big boy …"

Sunday mornings were their quiet time together. Jed's opening hours for the gym had been for the night owls, and so far they hadn't altered them much. Weekdays and Saturdays were 8am until 10pm, and Sundays 10am to 4pm. Craig, one of the fitness instructors who lived virtually next door to the centre, said gruffly that he'd always opened up on Sundays and was happy to keep doing so. Ryan had thanked him and accepted with alacrity before Stephen could turn the offer down. So they'd got in the habit of going in about 1pm so Craig could go home early.

"Looks good,” said Ryan, surveying the revamped café as they cleared away the dustsheets and ladders. 

When they’d taken the fitness centre over, there’d been a few tables and a small counter from behind which a sullen Goth called Dex (real name Diane, and Jed’s niece) had dispensed fruit juices from cartons. Dex had gone off to university to study Human Resources Management, which was a truly scary thought, and Stephen reckoned they could make more of the café by having juices and smoothies made fresh, and by selling healthy sandwiches, wraps, cakes and muffins. 

“Looks a bit more welcoming.” Stephen had chosen a sunny yellow shade. They’d managed to pick up some sofas, chairs and tables from a closing-down sale, and already it looked like the kind of place you’d want to chill out in and meet your mates. 

Carrie, the wife of Jeff, one of the personal trainers, was looking for a 10 – 4 job to fit around the kids – and it turned out she’d managed a café before. Niall and Tanya, a couple of Law students from the university, were going to give her a hand.

They'd done well with the team they'd inherited from Jed. Only three people had chosen not to stay on, and one of those was moving to America with his girlfriend. The other two – a bloke called Liam and a woman named Nancy – had both said it was time for them to move on, but Jed's summing-up of "homophobic fuckwit" and "god-bothering cow" probably wasn't too wide of the mark.

~*~*~*

Ryan set the tray down, cursing the ever-present nagging pain as he turned awkwardly. The quacks assured him everything would be better after all the operations. Ryan wasn’t convinced. At least there was only one more to go. 

Stephen was curled up asleep, the duvet covering him. His eyelashes looked absurdly long resting on his pale cheeks. Stephen seemed permanently exhausted most of the time, but that was hardly surprising, given he was working himself into the ground running the gym and completing a fitness trainer course. Ryan was doing a couple of days a week, but he’d had a bollocking from the quack for overdoing things when he’d gone down with flu about a fortnight after the previous operation. He’d ended up back in hospital and things had been nasty for a few days.

He perched on the edge of the bed and watched Stephen sleep. Shit, he wouldn’t blame him in the least if he grew to hate Ryan for the mess he’d made of their lives. Ryan wished that Stephen didn't feel that unbreakable sense of obligation to stay with him. He should still be in a university doing an intellectually-challenging job and living with someone who wasn't a physical wreck and who could satisfy him sexually.

Stephen opened his eyes and his smile made Ryan feel shivery all over. He leaned over and stroked the spiky hair.

"Hey." Ryan kissed his forehead. "Time for brekkie."

"What time is it?"

"9.30am."

"Shit, I didn't mean to sleep for this long … You should have woken me earlier."

"Why? You needed the sleep."

"I was going to make a start on some of those letters to schools …"

"They'll wait 'til Monday. Katie can help you with them. That’s what we pay her to do."

“I know, but there’s a lot resting on this …”

Ryan nodded. The fitness centre was doing OK, but they both knew they needed to branch out. So Stephen had come up with the idea of contacting schools to offer them adventure courses. He had a meeting coming up the following week with some bloke from Bristol City Council to discuss the idea.

They polished off bacon sarnies, yogurt and fruit, and lay back sipping mugs of coffee. Ryan said: “I reckon I’ll be OK to do every day as from the start of next month.”

“Not until the quack says you can.”

“I’ll be fine. And it’ll take the pressure off you a bit.”

Stephen put his mug down, and stared at Ryan. “I know what you’re thinking, Tom. But I don't regret any of this. Yes, it's bloody hard work, but I'm loving it. For the first time in my life I feel free. I know that sounds crazy …"

"You don't miss academia?" Ryan hadn’t dared to ask that question before.

"No. I'd had enough of all the back-biting and all the hassle."

"You might have been a published author by now …"

"More like I'd still be a research assistant looking for a lecturing post. Or if I'd found one, I'd be on the bottom rung and doing all the shit teaching and getting all the crap panels at conferences." Stephen leaned over and took hold of Ryan's hand. "I'm happy for the first time in my life. I have you, a nice home, and a job I love. I don't want anything else."

Ryan smiled at him and kissed the palm of his hand. “I just worry that you’re working too hard …”

Stephen shrugged. “It’s bound to be busy when you start something like this. But it’s going to be worth it.”

Ryan nodded, and pulled Stephen into his arms so they could kiss and cuddle. He was getting semi-hard occasionally, but nothing that was any sodding use.

Stephen rolled onto his side and watched with interest as Ryan reached in the bedside drawer for one of the sex toys and spun the butt plug round and round. "Blimey, juggling as well … Maybe we'll hire you out to the circus."

"I once saw that weird one where a bloke lifted heavy weights on his dick, and some guy swallowed loads of tubing and then got the audience to drink the stuff that came out of his stomach."

"You keep some charming company."

"Not my idea. Stag night for one of the lads about 15 years ago. And …"

"You going to get on with this, or regale me with freak show details all morning?" Stephen licked his fingers and reached back to play with his hole. He wriggled as he did so, and his prick lengthened and hardened even more.

"OK, cut that out." Ryan rolled Stephen over onto his hands and knees and kissed down his spine from neck to arse, his own fingers scissoring in the tight hole. Stephen wriggled again, and laughed at the sharp slap this provoked. And he yelped as Ryan pushed the butt plug in, administering a second slap to make sure it was embedded deep. 

"Ow, that hurts!"

"Stop whining. Now pass me the remote control and let's see what sport's on."

"Hey, aren't you going to …?"

"Not bloody rugby league. Sodding tedious stop and start shit. And why's it always bloody Wigan whenever you turn the TV on? Ah, that's more like it. Rugby union. I'd forgotten it was Bledisloe Cup this weekend."

"Not blokes with funny-shaped balls again." Stephen was stretched out, playing with his cock.

Ryan knocked his hands away. "Leave it alone for once. And it's time you got a new joke. New Zealand playing Australia is about the only time I don't want either side to win. Maybe the match'll be called off when the pitch gets invaded by a herd of zombie sheep."

"You're just talking bollocks now …"

"Speaking of which, you can suck my cock soon as you like." They both kept going through the motions, hoping that anytime soon there'd be a result.

Stephen obeyed, licking the shaft from root to tip, then taking each ball in his mouth. It felt good, but there was nothing doing, so Ryan contented himself with flicking the base of the butt plug and hearing Stephen moan as he worked the bulk in his mouth. Eventually he tugged gently at Stephen's hair, and kissed him on the lips.

They snuggled under the duvet to watch the rugby, Ryan's arm round Stephen's waist. Periodically Stephen would fidget and mutter about the pressure in his arse. Ryan ignored him, making actionable comments about the Kiwi scrum-half's integrity, and wondering aloud whether Aussies actually whined more than Poms did.

At half-time Stephen got out of bed to go and make more coffee, wiggling his arse enticingly at Ryan as he collected the tray to take downstairs. When he came back upstairs, his prick was standing straight out, and his cheeks were flushed.

"I hope you haven’t been playing with yourself while you waited for the kettle to boil."

"As if …" 

"Lying toad," observed Ryan. "Come here."

Stephen lay on his back, his long legs over his head and cried out as Ryan pulled the butt plug out and replaced it immediately with a ten-inch dildo which apparently simulated some porn star's pride and joy. And then he was moaning as Ryan hammered it in and out of him, shoving it in to the base, then pulling it all the way out. Stephen came uncontrollably, head thrown back and body shuddering.

They had a shower once the rugby had finished, and Stephen came a second time under the cascade of water as three of Ryan's fingers fucked his relaxed and soapy hole.

Stephen wrapped a towel around Ryan and started to dry him. "Thanks …"

"My pleasure. You looked fucking amazing, you randy little shit."

"Soon," said Stephen quietly, kissing Ryan's lips.

"Yeah. Soon." But he wouldn't be holding his breath. 

Downstairs they set about making soup and sandwiches for lunch before heading off to the gym.

"Don’t forget I've got that appointment to see the solicitor on Tuesday to get the final few odds and sods sorted. That way it’s all done before I go into hospital," said Ryan, dumping the Sunday papers on the living room table.

"Good. And while you're there we should sort out the …" Stephen stopped suddenly.

"Sort out what?"

Stephen hesitated, then said: "I'm sorry … We should have sorted it all out before the ceremony, but we had other things on our minds. We need a pre-nuptial agreement so that if anything happens, I have no claim on your money."

Ryan felt a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. "What d'you mean, if anything happens?"

Stephen looked away. "I don't want to think about it … But if we split … I'd never take a penny from you, but you need that in writing to put your mind at rest."

Ryan got up and walked from the room. As he was doing so he knew it was the worst way of dealing with the situation but he couldn't help it. He unlocked the back door and sat on the step, his head in his hands, trying to steady his breathing. 

He must have sat there for nearly half an hour, and only the chill seeping into his bones drove him inside. 

Stephen was sitting cross-legged on the floor, staring blindly into space. He didn't look up when Ryan eased himself down beside him, but said: "I'm sorry, but …"

"Stephen, listen to me. Everything I have is yours."

"But I haven't put a penny into the house or the business. The car's yours as well. Honestly, I would never take any money from you … If it all goes wrong, I promise you I'll walk away."

Ryan entwined their fingers, wishing he could clear his mind of the image of Stephen living in a grotty bedsit with no money, too proud to ask for help. "I'm not some celebrity millionaire. I'm an ordinary bloke with a house and a business and a partner who owns both as much as I do. You’ve worked your bloody socks off getting everything off the ground …"

"But I haven't contributed …"

"We're in this as a partnership, and as far as I'm concerned we'll be together for ever … That's what you want, isn’t it?"

“Of course it is … I’m sorry …”

Ryan kissed the top of his head. “Nothing to be sorry for.”

“Apart from being a total fuck-up …”

“You’re not. Come on, get some of this food down you, or Craig'll be thinking we've run away to sea."

Stephen nodded and it was like the shutters had come down again. “OK.”

~*~*~*

The email arrived at about 11pm the following Sunday night, just as they were getting ready for bed. The subject line was ‘clusterfuck’ and in the text Lyle had written:

_Complete fucking shambles. Adey dead, Ditzy and Finn wounded. We’re being pulled out. ___

__“Oh fuck.” Ryan stared at the screen. Stephen slipped his arm round his waist and pulled him into a hug._ _

__“Shit.”_ _

__“Yeah. Fuck.”_ _

__“I’m sorry about Adey.” Stephen hadn’t known him very well, but he’d liked what he knew. Adey was unfailingly cheerful and with a good sense of humour. Stephen had always suspected he was sweet on Abby, but was too shy to do anything about it._ _

__“He was a great lad. Fuck this, I’m going to phone Lester.”_ _

__Ryan sat on the bed, drumming his fingers, as he waited for the call to be answered. “James? It’s Ryan. I’ve just had an email from Jon. D’you know what’s happening? Shit … OK. Thanks. Let me know when you have some news, would you? Night.”_ _

__“What did he say?”_ _

__“He doesn’t know much more that we do. He got the same email as we did, but Jon managed a brief phonecall to him. It was some sort of ambush. Adey died instantly. Ditzy and Finn are going to be OK, but they’re flying them home for treatment. Sounds like it’ll be in the next few days.”_ _

__“Once I’ve dropped you off tomorrow, I’ll go on to Hereford and see Claire.”_ _

__“Good idea. And ring me if you find anything out.”_ _

__~*~*~*_ _

__Stephen delivered Ryan to Selly Oak hospital at 9am the next morning. Neither of them had slept well the previous night – a mix of worrying about the lads in Afghanistan, and the thought of Ryan's operation. It was supposed to be the last one, and was what the quacks called ‘tidying up’, but it still made Stephen edgy. He had visions of Ryan contracting MRSA or something, which would be the ultimate bloody irony after he’d survived a run-in with a mutant freak from the future._ _

__They got in to the lift and kissed just before the doors opened. “I’ll be back this evening,” said Stephen._ _

__Ryan nodded. “Give Claire a hug from me.”_ _

__“Will do.”_ _

__Ryan touched his cheek briefly, slung his bag over his shoulder, and headed off into the ward._ _

__Stephen went and liberated the car and set off for Hereford. He’d debated phoning first, but assumed, given it was the holidays, that Claire would be at home. He couldn’t see her going far if she was waiting for news of Ditzy. Christ, it seemed like shit on top of shit all over again._ _

__When Claire opened the front door, it was obvious she’d been crying. She took one look at Stephen and burst into tears again. He wrapped his arms round and led her in to the living room, which looked like a bomb had hit it. And considering Claire was the most house-proud woman in the universe, this told Stephen all he needed to know._ _

__She cried for a good 15 minutes, her arms in a death-like grip round Stephen’s chest. He stroked her hair and hugged her, remembering all too clearly the times she’d been there for him._ _

__“Sorry … You’re all soggy.” She scrubbed ineffectually at his teeshirt._ _

__“It needed a wash.”_ _

__She laughed and jabbed him hard in the ribs. “Tea?”_ _

__“Please. Shall I make it?”_ _

__“Nope. I haven’t lost the use of my arms or legs.”_ _

__“Any news?”_ _

__“One of Colonel Jackson’s minions phoned about an hour ago. They’re being flown back to Lyneham on Wednesday.”_ _

__“How are they?”_ _

__Claire shrugged. “You heard about Adey?”_ _

__“Yes. I’m sorry.”_ _

__She nodded. “You know he was going to ask Abby out?”_ _

__“I did wonder …”_ _

__“Finn and his lordship are apparently going to be fine, although I hear it was touch and go for both of them for a while.”_ _

__“D’you know what happened?”_ _

__“More or less. It was some sort of ambush. Finn was wounded trying to rescue some guys stranded in a burning jeep. Ditzy went to help him and was shot as well. The Major and Jon risked their lives pulling them both clear.”_ _

__“Shit.”_ _

__“I dunno why I don’t just kill Ditzy myself and have done with it … The bastard’s been muttering about bad karma for the op since the start. I wish he’d do what the boss has done and get out while he’s still in one piece.”_ _

__“Does he want to?”_ _

__Claire shrugged. “One minute he does, next he’s not sure. He keeps wittering on about leaving and becoming a paramedic …”_ _

__“He’d be really good at it.”_ _

__“I know. He sent for the application forms a month or so ago, but then this all happened. I’m just trying to keep my mouth shut. I don’t want to influence him, and then have him blame me later when he finds he’s made the wrong decision. Mind you, they’re all jittery after what happened to the boss … How’s he doing, by the way?”_ _

__“He sends his love. I dropped him off in Selly Oak on the way here for his last op.”_ _

__“Good news.”_ _

__“Yes. The quack says it’s tidying up. I just want him out of there as quick as they can.”_ _

__“He’s OK, though?”_ _

__“More or less. They’ve done a good job with the plastic surgery and skin grafts, and you can barely see the scars. But he’s not very good at resting. He wants to be at work full-time.”_ _

__“How’s it going?”_ _

__“Fine, thanks. We seem to be busy. I’ve nearly finished my fitness trainer course. And we’re waiting to hear if the education authority in the county is interested in us running adventure courses for schools.”_ _

__“Cool idea!”_ _

__“They seem interested, so keep your fingers crossed. Tom wants to run one of those army-style fitness courses as well, and see how much interest that gets. And we're just revamping the café to see if we can make it a meeting point for people who work in the area as well as those who use the facilities.”_ _

__“Are you enjoying it?”_ _

__“I’m loving it!”_ _

__“You don’t miss the uni?”_ _

__“Not in the least.”_ _

__The doorbell went and Claire got up to answer it. It was Lizzie Preston. She kissed Claire, then enveloped Stephen in a hug._ _

__“Lovely to see you, darling! How are you?"_ _

__“I’m fine, thanks, Lizzie. And I'm sorry to hear about what happened to the Major._ _

__"Oh, he'll be fine, fortunately. Poor Adey, though. He was a lovely lad. I've just been chatting to his mum on the phone. She's doing very well, considering. Now, how's that chap of yours?"_ _

__"Tom’s in Selly Oak for the last of his ops. The doctor says it’s tidying up now.”_ _

__“Please send him my very best. Now, shall we go out for lunch? If I don’t get out from within four walls, I shall scream. My treat. They’ve refitted The Lion, and it’s supposed to be very good. And I want to hear all about your fitness centre …”_ _

__~*~*~*_ _

__Stephen looked at his reflection in the mirror and pulled a face. The plain black cotton shirt and new black jeans didn't seem too scruffy. He flattened his damp hair, knowing damn well it would spike up as it dried. He didn't do smart. Unlike bloody Ryan, who always looked like something out of an army recruitment poster._ _

__He sat down on the bed and looked at the phone, wondering if 8am was too early to ring. He was missing Ryan like hell. And even though they'd been assured the operation had gone fine, Stephen couldn't help worrying. Oh, sod it … He reached for the phone and dialled._ _

__"Morning." Ryan seemed upbeat._ _

__"Morning to you too, as well. Had your bedbath yet?"_ _

__"It's Nurse Ratched on this morning, so no doubt it'll be a rub-down with a piece of sandpaper."_ _

__Stephen laughed. "Each to their own perversion."_ _

__"So you ready to wow them?"_ _

__"Yep. Done a PowerPoint presentation and got the costings sorted. That mate of yours with the hostel in the Brecons rang back last night at midnight."_ _

__"Ah, yes, Brad operates on different hours from the rest of us. His quote OK?"_ _

__"Very reasonable. And he said he'd like to get involved with the courses if we get the contract."_ _

__"He'd be good at it. He's a sound bloke, if a bit short on small talk."_ _

__"I noticed. So how you doing?"_ _

__"Bored," said Ryan, sighing theatrically._ _

__"You've got a huge pile of books and magazines, and witty conversation on all sides from lots of soldiers …"_ _

__"You must have visited the wrong ward the other day. Some of this lot communicate by grunting."_ _

__"Thought you’d be used to that."_ _

__"I miss you," said Ryan softly._ _

__"And I miss you too. Not long now, though. I'll have the car at the door with the engine running on Wednesday, all ready to spring you."_ _

__"Can't bloody wait!"_ _

__~*~*~*_ _

__The guy from the council was crumpled and seemingly distracted. But just when Stephen thought he was wasting his time, the bloke rapped out a couple of sharp questions about where they'd be basing the courses, and how many leaders they'd have. He seemed happy with Stephen's answers, though, and said he'd talk to his colleagues and be in contact soon._ _

__Just as Stephen was gathering up his paperwork, the bloke said: "What's a guy with a PhD and your life experience doing running a fitness club?"_ _

__"You ever worked in a university?"_ _

__"No, but I lectured in an FE college for two years."_ _

__"Then you'll know all about the in-fighting and the bureaucracy and all that crap."_ _

__"God, yes … Why d'you think I got out?"_ _

__Stephen laughed. "Same reason as I did, then. This is what I want to do."_ _

__~*~*~*_ _

__Ryan pushed the mountain of paperwork aside and sat back in his chair. He’d be bloody glad when he was back on his feet properly. He hated being stuck behind a desk. The op had gone fine, though, and the quack didn’t want to see him again for six months, which was a distinct improvement. And he’d been given the go-ahead to ease back into his training routine. Now, when he looked in the mirror, he could see someone who looked more or less like him on the outside. As for the inside, the next person to suggest he saw a counsellor was going to get a right jab to the nose …_ _

__In the gym he could see Stephen, dressed in teeshirt and shorts, chatting to some of the clients. Stephen had always been fit, but until they’d moved to Bristol he’d been a runner. Now his fitness routine included an hour daily in the gym. And it had paid off, as his body was almost perfect. Stephen didn’t seem to believe Ryan when he told him this, though._ _

__Stephen had changed in other ways as well. He was poised and more outgoing. Ryan had no doubt that watching your partner battling back from close to death had been part of the reason. Lyle had told him a while back how confidently Stephen had dealt with all the medical and military personnel while Ryan was in hospital. It reinforced to him that Stephen’s lack of self-esteem was confined solely to his private life._ _

__And Ryan knew once and for all that Stephen genuinely loved his career change. He bubbled over with ideas about what they could do to expand – and they were all thought-through and all bloody good ideas. The council had said yes to the adventure courses, so they'd be launching those in a couple of months. And Stephen was wondering aloud if there might also be an adult market there. Once Ryan was back in the saddle, he was going to set up an army-style fitness club once a week. Fifty people had already signed up for it. It looked like things were turning out better than either of them could ever have imagined._ _

__An email pinged into his inbox. It was from Lyle._ _

___"You around next weekend?"_ _ _

___"Yes. How you doing?"_ _ _

___"OK. We'll drop in on Sunday on the way back from caving."_ _ _

___"Fine. Come for dinner."_ _ _

___"Ta. See you then." ____ _

____"Coffee?" Stephen was standing in the doorway, a mug in each hand._ _ _ _

____"Great. Thanks."_ _ _ _

____"I've just been talking to some of the girls who work at the BBC. They want to know why we don't offer massages and facials. I reckon there might be a market for them."_ _ _ _

____"Dunno. Might be worth doing some research and then see."_ _ _ _

____"You haven't forgotten that Abby's coming for the day tomorrow, have you?"_ _ _ _

____"Nope. We taking her out to lunch?"_ _ _ _

____"Yep. That new place down by the docks is supposed to be good."_ _ _ _

____"And I've just had an email from Lyle. He and Lester are going to drop in for Sunday dinner."_ _ _ _

____"They off caving?"_ _ _ _

____"Yes."_ _ _ _

____"Everything OK?"_ _ _ _

____"Jon didn't say otherwise. No doubt we'll find out on Sunday."_ _ _ _

____~*~*~*_ _ _ _

____Stephen collected Abby from Temple Meads off the 10am train. She was dressed in her usual kick-arse trousers and boots, but he thought how tired and dispirited she looked._ _ _ _

____They didn’t talk much in the car, just some chit-chat about the journey and was a nightmare Bristol was to drive in, but the moment Abby saw Ryan, she burst into tears._ _ _ _

____“Hey, I don’t look that bad, do I?”_ _ _ _

____She hugged him, the top of her head just about level with his chin. “You look fabulous …”_ _ _ _

____“I can go out in public now without frightening the horses and small children …”_ _ _ _

____“They’ve done an amazing job.”_ _ _ _

____“Well, I’ve certainly got my money’s worth of the NHS. And the surgeon wants to do a paper on ‘before’ and ‘after’. Although how he’d explain away the injuries is beyond me.”_ _ _ _

____“Lester’ll stamp on that,” said Abby, accepting a mug of tea off Stephen._ _ _ _

____“It won’t get that far. Major Preston will do his ever so reasonable act, the one that leaves you in doubt at all that what you’re planning is not a good idea.”_ _ _ _

____Abby started crying again, curling up in the chair and hiding her face. Stephen sat on the arm beside her and stroked her hair. “Hey, come on …”_ _ _ _

____“You know the Major and Jon saved Finn and Ditzy’s lives?”_ _ _ _

____“Yes. Abby, I’m sorry about Adey …”_ _ _ _

____“He was going to take me to a rugby match when he got back.”_ _ _ _

____“He was a good lad,” said Ryan quietly._ _ _ _

____“Have you seen Jon yet?”_ _ _ _

____“Not yet. He's calling in on Sunday. They'll have had debriefings up the wazoo.”_ _ _ _

____There was a silence. Stephen said: “Are you hungry, Abby?”_ _ _ _

____“Not at the moment. I had a croissant and coffee on the train.”_ _ _ _

____“We thought we’d go to a place by the docks for lunch.”_ _ _ _

____“Sounds good.” Abby kicked her boots off and sat cross-legged on the sofa. “Has Nick stopped hassling you?”_ _ _ _

____“Looks like it. There’s been nothing from him since I threatened to go to the police.”_ _ _ _

____“Good. I know he’s a wanker about the whole thing, but he’s not a bad person.”_ _ _ _

____Stephen shrugged. “He’s a fuckwit and not having to deal with him any more is just brilliant.”_ _ _ _

____“Don’t you miss it at all?”_ _ _ _

____“Nope.” He hoped she’d take the hint and drop the subject._ _ _ _

____“I wish you hadn’t gone. I understand why you did, but it’s horrible without you.”_ _ _ _

____“Why? What’s it like?” Stephen wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer._ _ _ _

____“The truth? Totally fucking crap.” For a moment he was sure she was going to cry._ _ _ _

____“Abby, get out of there …”_ _ _ _

____“I can’t! Connor won’t leave Cutter, and I’m not leaving Connor. And there’s some weird shit going on. I had this letter from Claudia …” She reached for her backpack and fished out a folded and slightly crumpled bit of paper._ _ _ _

____Stephen took it from her and read it, then passed it over to Ryan. Claudia had sent it from Australia about a month previously. The letter told Abby all about her stopover in Hong Kong to visit an old uni friend and how she was now in Sydney staying with a cousin. It ended with:_ _ _ _

____Abby, please look for another job. Before I left there were whispers about odd goings-on at the Home Office which might impact on the anomalies project. I can’t prove it, but someone’s out to undermine Lester._ _ _ _

____Stephen looked up at Ryan. “Did you hear anything about this?”_ _ _ _

____“No.”_ _ _ _

____Abby rubbed her eyes. “It’s loads of little things, nothing you can put your finger on. They’ve sent this sleazebag called Leek to work with Lester. And there’s a private security firm in place who give me the creeps. Ack, don’t listen to me, I’m just spouting crap. Are we going for lunch then? And there’d better be something more than goats cheese and balsamic vinegar on the menu, or there’ll be trouble!”_ _ _ _

____~*~*~*_ _ _ _

____“What’s on your mind?” Stephen sat cross-legged on the bed and watched Ryan go through his usual undressing and folding clothes up routine._ _ _ _

____Ryan shrugged and chucked two teeshirts, one of them Stephen’s, into the laundry basket._ _ _ _

____“Tom …”_ _ _ _

____He shrugged again and perched on the windowsill, staring out across the dark rooftops of the city._ _ _ _

____“You want to know what’s going on at the ARC, don’t you?”_ _ _ _

____“Yes.”_ _ _ _

____“It’s none of our fucking business,” snapped Stephen. He didn’t want this, he’d done all he could to start erasing the anomalies project from his mind. Throwing himself into the new enterprise and worrying about Ryan had gone some way to forgetting. He didn’t want to have to deal with it again._ _ _ _

____“You feel like saying that to Abby?” asked Ryan mildly._ _ _ _

____“Abby’s an adult and supposedly an intelligent one. If she stays because bloody Connor is too fucking stupid to come in out of the rain, that’s not my problem. And if she’s daft enough to be taken in by Cutter’s loony tunes guilt trip, then I can’t help her. And to be honest, I'm not in the slightest interested any more.”_ _ _ _

____“Are you sure about that?”_ _ _ _

____“Fuck you, Tom!” Stephen was shaking with rage. “This has nothing to do with us. Nothing!” He curled up on his side, his eyes clenched shut. He felt the bed dip beside him and a strong hand started to stroke his back. But he couldn’t stop himself flinching at the touch, and the hand pulled away._ _ _ _

____“Stephen, talk to me …”_ _ _ _

____“Go away.”_ _ _ _

____For a moment he thought Ryan would do as he’d asked, but instead he felt the bed shift again as his partner stretched out beside him and turned the light out. For the first time since they’d been together, they slept without touching._ _ _ _

____~*~*~*_ _ _ _

____Ryan finally gave up all pretence of being able to sleep, and slid out of bed just before 6am. Stephen was curled up in a ball, precariously close to the edge of the bed. He didn’t wake as Ryan opened the door quietly and crept downstairs._ _ _ _

____He turned the coffee maker on and pulled croissants out of the freezer. There was plenty of bacon in the fridge for a butty in a while. God, he really wanted to go for a run, but knew that would have to wait. He couldn’t take the chance of Stephen waking up and finding an empty house._ _ _ _

____Ryan perched on one of the stools and rubbed his eyes. They’d done well to get this far without having a row. There’d been the surreal conversations, like the one over the pre-nuptial agreement, but he knew how they handled this disagreement was going to be fundamental to how their relationship continued._ _ _ _

____Outside a flock of starlings attacked with great enthusiasm the bird feeder that Stephen had rigged up. Next door’s cat, a whining ginger creature called Amber, lurked on the fence._ _ _ _

____Ryan poured himself a mug of coffee and took a sip. Before he could change his mind, he reached out for the phone and dialled a number. It was answered almost immediately._ _ _ _

____“Craig?” Ryan knew their chief fitness instructor was a man who survived on five hours sleep and was always up at 6am for his run across the Downs._ _ _ _

____“Ryan? Everything OK?”_ _ _ _

____“More or less. Got a favour to ask, though. Stephen’s under the weather, so are you OK to mind the shop today?”_ _ _ _

____“Sure.” Craig, a 40-ish former firefighter, was a man of few words. “I’ll come and get the keys now.”_ _ _ _

____“Ta. Don’t ring the bell. I’ll leave the front door ajar.”_ _ _ _

____When Craig appeared ten minutes later, Ryan handed him a mug of coffee. Craig nodded his thanks and perched on the stool._ _ _ _

____“Stephen OK?” asked Craig gruffly._ _ _ _

____“He’ll be fine. He’s picked up some virus, I think.”_ _ _ _

____“He could do with the rest,” said Craig unexpectedly. “Kid’s been working his socks off since you took over. You know Luci and I can always keep an eye on things ‘til you’re back on your feet.”_ _ _ _

____“Thanks. I appreciate that.” Ryan knew that at some stage they were going to have to talk about appointing a centre manager, and both Craig and Luci, a former cop, could do the job with their eyes closed._ _ _ _

____“Right, I’d better get on. I’ll drop the keys round later.”_ _ _ _

____“Cheers, Craig. Phone if there’s a problem.”_ _ _ _

____“There won’t be. See you later.”_ _ _ _

____After Craig had gone, Ryan set about making some breakfast. When it got to 9am, he took a tray upstairs._ _ _ _

____Stephen was awake and still huddled on his side, staring at the wall._ _ _ _

____“Hey, sleeping beauty, bought you this …” Ryan set the tray down and started sorting out the plates. He’d made bacon butties, warmed through some croissants and added fruit and yoghurt to the tray._ _ _ _

____Stephen sat up abruptly and looked at the clock. “Shit, I’m going to be late for work …”_ _ _ _

____“Craig’s going to mind the shop today. You need rest.”_ _ _ _

____“But …”_ _ _ _

____“No arguments,” said Ryan firmly. “Eat this, then you’re going to spend the day dossing around.”_ _ _ _

____“I can’t, Tom. The gym …”_ _ _ _

____“Will be fine in Craig’s hands. He’s just been round to get the keys, and he’ll ring if there’s a problem. Now eat something.”_ _ _ _

____Stephen nibbled half-heartedly at the bacon sarnie, before setting it aside. He looked washed out, and Ryan wondered if he was going down with some bug. But he worried more as to whether this would be the trigger to send all of Stephen's precarious defences tumbling down._ _ _ _

____Ryan sat back against the pillows and buttered a chunk of croissant. "Eat this," he said quietly, holding the food to Stephen's lips. Stephen obeyed, but it seemed mechanical. Eventually Ryan set the tray on the floor and pulled Stephen into his arms, kissing the top of his head. "Right, you're going to have a sleep. Then we'll see how you are later."_ _ _ _

____Stephen curled up on his side and watched Ryan out of clouded blue eyes as he arranged the duvet over him and leaned over to kiss his forehead._ _ _ _

____"Call me if you need anything."_ _ _ _

____"I'm fine." And he turned over again to face the wall._ _ _ _

____~*~*~*_ _ _ _

____Ryan pottered around for the next few hours. He caught up on some emails and then settled down to read the paper. There was sport on as well, so he kept it on low in the background. He checked up on Stephen a few times, but he was fast asleep. Maybe he was going down with a bug, but Ryan doubted it. He'd stake any money on it being a mix of tiredness and bottling up his feelings. Not that he was in any position to take the high ground on either of those points …_ _ _ _

____About 1pm he heard footsteps on the stairs. Stephen appeared, clad in a baggy teeshirt and tracksuit bottoms. His hair was standing on end and his face looked very pale against his dark eyebrows._ _ _ _

____"Hey …" Ryan watched him as he stared around him, almost as if he didn't recognise the place._ _ _ _

____"Is everything OK? Craig hasn't rung?"_ _ _ _

____"Nope. He can deal with anything short of civil insurrection, and even then he'll have a head start …"_ _ _ _

____Stephen didn't react, sitting down suddenly on the sofa. He looked terrible and Ryan started to wonder if he was going down with something grotty._ _ _ _

____"Are you hungry?"_ _ _ _

____"A bit … I can get …"_ _ _ _

____"Stay where you are. Soup?"_ _ _ _

____Stephen nodded. "Thanks."_ _ _ _

____Ryan heated up some tomato soup and shoved some bread in the toaster. He carried it all through to the living room and set the tray on the low table. "Here you are. Gran always let me have Heinz tomato soup when I was ill. I never wanted it the rest of the year, mind. And I always had toast soldiers with it."_ _ _ _

____"Special Forces ones?"_ _ _ _

____It was a weak joke, but it eased some of Ryan's worries. He passed Stephen a bowl, then started dividing up the toast. "Here you are, then, Special Forces soldiers, just for you."_ _ _ _

____Stephen managed a smile as he finished the bowl of soup and a slice of toast._ _ _ _

____"Anything else?"_ _ _ _

____"No thanks, that was fine."_ _ _ _

____"Why don't you get comfy on the sofa? It'll be a novelty to watch a crap film or some sport without worrying about work."_ _ _ _

____Stephen nodded, and they settled down to watch some Test cricket, Ryan with his feet up on the low table and Stephen stretched out, his head in Ryan's lap. Absent-mindedly Ryan stroked his hair, tracing his fingers down over Stephen's eyebrows and cheekbones. Then his hand was trapped and warm lips kissed the palm and knuckles._ _ _ _

____"Tom, I'm sorry … About last night …"_ _ _ _

____"Forget it."_ _ _ _

____"I can't._ _ _ _

____"I've been thinking while you were asleep … Some things have got to change, starting with us having a holiday. We haven't been away for a year and that's just crazy. We've got the gym on a firm enough footing that it won't collapse without us. And now we've got the new contracts coming up, we've got to appoint a centre manager so we can concentrate on the courses and all our other plans."_ _ _ _

____Stephen nodded. "I suppose … Who did you have in mind? Craig or Luci?"_ _ _ _

____"I thought we could talk to them both about it, and see if they were interested. They could both do it with their eyes closed, but my guess is Craig won't take it as he won't want to have to deal with the paperwork."_ _ _ _

____"True. Maybe he'd be deputy. Luci'd be great at it."_ _ _ _

____"Yes, she would. We'll ask. Let's talk to them tomorrow about it. And we can find somewhere nice to go on holiday. D'you fancy anywhere in particular?"_ _ _ _

____"I don't mind …"_ _ _ _

____Ryan sighed and pulled Stephen into a sitting position so he could cup his chin in his hands. "That's not an answer … You once told me about all these places you dreamed of us visiting together. Let's start doing it now. We've got the money."_ _ _ _

____"I know, but …"_ _ _ _

____"So, where d'you want to go? America? Canada? Africa?"_ _ _ _

____"I don't mind, Tom, really …"_ _ _ _

____Ryan could see he wasn't going to get anywhere with pushing Stephen, so he said: "Maybe we can look online later and see what's available."_ _ _ _

____"Or do what Claire did when we went to Paris and buy Gay Times."_ _ _ _

____"Good idea._ _ _ _

____~*~*~*_ _ _ _

____Lyle looked like shit. He’d lost some weight, and was gaunt and drawn. And he seemed permanently on edge, getting up and pacing the room. Ryan hadn't seen him like this since Bosnia, and he was immediately worried._ _ _ _

____Lester, as always when he was off-duty and casually dressed, looked another person completely. Ryan thought he remembered Lyle saying that Lester co-owned a cottage somewhere on the Mendips with his brother, which probably accounted for why they both looked well-scrubbed, although Lyle had a scar across his forehead._ _ _ _

____"Fucking low-hanging rock," he snapped when he saw Ryan looking._ _ _ _

____"Only low-hanging if you're on your bloody back," observed Lester, accepting a mug of tea with a nod of thanks._ _ _ _

____"Or if you're a bloody shortarse like you …"_ _ _ _

____Lyle said next to nothing during the meal. Lester kept the conversation going by chatting about the fitness centre and asking them about their plans for it. Ryan longed to get Lyle alone to find out exactly what was going on, but the crafty bugger engineered it so that they were never alone. And Ryan felt more than a touch guilty at the feeling of relief when the guests left at about 10pm._ _ _ _

____"God, that was like pulling teeth. What the fuck was Jon's problem?" Stephen flopped down on the sofa beside Ryan._ _ _ _

____"No idea."_ _ _ _

____"If he wanted to talk to you by yourself, you gave him plenty of opportunities."_ _ _ _

____"Yeah. He'll talk about it when he's ready."_ _ _ _

____"God, the more I think about it, the more I reckon we got out at the right time."_ _ _ _

____"Looks like it." He had a sneaking suspicion that Stephen was right. Where that left his friendship with Lyle and the rest of the lads, he didn't know._ _ _ _

____And he wasn't sure he wanted to think about it either._ _ _ _


End file.
